


A Look Into the Past

by dinosaurApocalypse



Category: The Riftdale Chronicles (Web Series)
Genre: @ ace, Not in This Fic, he lives dw, kinda has to i mean this is like "oh what if: past adventures" shit so uh, so dont you threaten me, they literally cant die, uhhh, warning for like getting shot and shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-07 21:53:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17968727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinosaurApocalypse/pseuds/dinosaurApocalypse
Summary: What did the grays get up to in their world? How did they meet?Did you know they fought the mob?





	1. The Meeting, pt 1

**Author's Note:**

> look it goes without saying (probably) but this is entirely headcanons bc uhhhh,,, we don't actually know what went on in their pasts. This is me shooting the shit and deciding to make y'all hate me a little more

        The year is 1936, and it's a typical day in the town of Yew Nork. People who are lucky enough to have jobs are rushing to get to them. Things are a bit better than they had been, but not by much, and certainly not as good as they used to be. Nowhere near as good. The streets are busy, people running around to get things done. A lot of shops have gone out of business, while others are still managing to keep their doors open. There's no telling when their luck will change, for better or worse. It's freezing, but at least the sky's a beautiful clear gray with no signs of rain in sight. That's good when you're someone like Johnny.

        Jonathan Smith, a fifteen-year-old boy living in one of the poorest places in Yew Nork, is looking for some opportunity to make money just like everyone else in the country. He doesn't have a family to feed, not anymore, but he needs an actual meal and maybe a warm place to sleep. He's been living on the streets for the past six months, and if Hell was a place on Earth, he thinks Yew Nork would be it. It's hard to make a living here, to survive. Everyone's poor and struggling, the world around them is dirty and tainted with depression and hopelessness. Oh, and not to mention there's a mafia. Everywhere has a mafia, seems like, but this one is particularly brutal in ways Johnny just doesn't understand and hopes he never will.

        The mafia owns their fair share of casinos, speakeasies, and other typical mob-like things. They kill, they run drug rings and Lord knows what else they do. Johnny does know that at least one bombing has occurred because of them, but it's not like the police will do anything about it. They're either on the payroll or too scared to do anything. If Johnny was a cop, he wouldn't be bought so easily. He'd be untouchable, incorruptible. The best cop Yew Nork has ever seen.

        But Johnny Smith is not a cop, not even close, and he doesn't believe that someone like him could even become one in the first place. Not only is he a street kid, but he has his own dark secrets he has to keep out of sight. If he was a cop, would he have to arrest himself? Do cops arrest themselves when they break the law? Are they supposed to? Johnny doesn't know.

        A particularly cold gust of wind makes Johnny shiver and pull his ratty old jacket tighter around himself, teeth chattering as he ducks through a handful of people who seem to be in deep conversation about something important, hoping to get warm by shared body heat and adult conversations. Maybe he should duck into that shop there. It's a speakeasy, Johnny's pretty sure, but he can't exactly prove it nor does he want to. He does know, though, that he has to be extremely careful now. He's in mob territory.

        A car passes, slowly, and Johnny has enough experience in the world to know something bad is going to happen. He tries to shove his way through the crowd to escape, but he doesn't get through before someone opens fire. Guns go off, people scream, glass shatters. Johnny ducks, hands over his head, praying to a God he's stopped believing in to keep him safe. People rush out of the shop, shooting back at the car. Johnny doesn't pay attention too much, staying on the ground to avoid being killed simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

        Soon enough, it's over, and Johnny slowly stands up, using the wall to balance himself. A few people are laying on the street and sidewalk in pools of blood, some dead, some severely wounded. Others are standing in a sort of shock, passersby and those involved alike, simply taking in the damage that had been done. The shock's slowly wearing off, and as Johnny takes a step forward to continue on his way, he collapses as a white-hot pain shoots up his body. Sirens grow closer, perhaps an ambulance or the cops.

        The last thing he sees before passing out in a slowly growing pool of his own blood is a concerned officer looking down at him.


	2. The Meeting, pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chief does his job

        Jacob Hammond, the Chief of Police, has been on the police force for approximately twenty years now. Forty-something, still as fit as ever if not a bit creaky and more fed up with this entire city. Yew Nork, a city of criminals, a mob boss's wet dream. This is not to say he's a great cop or even a good one; no, he's done many things any good cop would never dream of doing, but he gets the job done. He's not corrupt, no, but he's not exactly averse to a shot of giggle water every now and then. Hell, he can name quite a few other cops who do the same. It's hard, this job, and it never gets any easier.

        Maybe today will be a good day, Jacob thinks as he settles down at his desk to start the pile of paperwork waiting for him. Maybe the apple won't need him. Maybe Johnson will finally turn in that damn stack of papers he still hasn't finished. Maybe today will be quiet, calm, nothing bad happening. No mobs, no robberies. Maybe he can finally pretend this place is good, normal. He can go home to his family-

        Nothing is ever good, is it? He has no family. Crime doesn't stop just because he wants a day off. He feels weary to his soul, deep in his bones, a dread filling him as soon as he's informed of the shootout just south of the town square. God damn it, the fuckin' mob's at it again, aren't they? He sighs, stands up, and makes his way out of the office to get as many hands on deck as possible.

        He doesn't have a partner, not anymore (Rest in peace, Williams), so the drive to the crime scene is a silent one. Not even his radio plays. It's too depressing, nowadays, and it's not like he even likes listening to it anyway. He parks and gets out of the car, approaching the sea of bodies and blood with a grimace. He remembers the first time he saw a scene like this. He cried, got sick, fumbled around due to jitters. Now it's just an unfortunate part of the job.

        Doesn't really make it any easier though. Especially not when some poor kid's bleeding out on the street by Jacob's foot. He looks down at the kid, and God if he doesn't look just like his son. Jacob's heart aches for this poor boy and his family. Usually, Jacob doesn't have hope to save others, but this kid... maybe he can save this kid, this boy. 

        "We need an ambulance!" Jacob shouts, kneeling down to press his hands over the boy's stomach wound. God, the poor kid is so cold, even with the warm blood pumping against Jacob's hands.

        "Don't you die on me, kid," Jacob mumbles, looking at the boy's face. He looks so sad, laying there. So small and fragile. What happened to this kid? Is he in the mob or simply an innocent caught in the crossfire? Where is that damn ambulance?

        Finally, finally, they arrive and rush to the boy's aid, doing all they can. They take him to the hospital (managing to convince Jacob to let go of him), leaving Jacob kneeling in the kid's blood, hands stained red. Maybe he should-

        No, that's ridiculous. Don't be stupid, Jacob, you can't just leave work to go see a kid you don't even know. You can, however, do your job here, save more lives, maybe arrest some of these bastards. He stands up, wiping the child's blood on his pants (might as well, he's already covered in the shit), and hurries off to do his duty. 

        He can't get the kid out of his mind.


	3. The Meeting, pt 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny gets a visitor

        An indeterminate amount of time later, for the first time in six months, Johnny Smith wakes up in a bed. It's warm, slightly scratchy, but he doesn't mind. He's in a bed! Though he doesn't know where the bed is. What happened?

        That's when he remembers the gunshots, the bodies, collapsing. He must be in the hospital then. At least it's better than death or laying in the street. This does, however, raise another important question. What's going to happen to him now? They'll know he doesn't have a family, and the Church probably won't want him. This is not the scenario he really ever wanted to play out.

        "Oh, you're awake," comes a slightly gruff voice from the doorway. Johnny looks over, noting the man seems to be wearing a police uniform. Oh, great, just what he needs. He's going to be arrested for getting shot up in the mob territory, isn't he? Or is this a crooked cop, and he's going to be recruited to the mob or murdered for witnessing the shootout, or-

        "Hey, hey, calm down!" The officer looks worried, holding up his bloody hands (Jesus, Almighty, whose blood is that?!). Johnny hadn't realized he was panicking until just now, forcing his breaths to even out and his fist to unclench.

      The copper takes a few hesitant steps forward, eyeing Johnny with an expression Johnny hasn't seen in a while. Genuine, almost parental, concern.

        "Am I in trouble or somethin' officer?"

        This startles a laugh out of the man, "No, no. Unless you got somethin' you want to admit to, but I highly doubt it. I'm just here to-" He sighs, starts to run a hand through his hair, stops. Johnny and the cop watch each other for a long while, both in silence. For a moment, Johnny wonders what this man was going to say to him. He wonders if he should say something back.

        "I'm Johnny."

        The cop looks... shocked? Sad? Johnny doesn't know this man well enough to read his expressions, but something's there that makes Johnny feel a strong sense that something was wrong.

         "Hello, Johnny. I'm Chief- er, Jacob Hammond."

        "Chief, huh. Must'a taken ya a while to get there."

        "Near enough on twenty years."

        "Ain't that just the bee's knees."

        "Quite. Say, Johnny, I do need to get an eyewitness report- or a victim's report, of what happened. Do you mind tellin' me about it?"

        Johnny chews on his lip and nods, watching as Hammond takes a seat. The boy clears his throat and quietly recounts what happened. He tells Hammond about walking through town in search of some way to make money, seeing the car, hearing the gunshots. He didn't see much, but he tells of everything he does know. Hammond writes down his account, thanks him for it, then the two of them sit in silence for a moment.

        "So what's it like, bein' a cop?"

        They fall into an easy enough chat, asking questions, talking about their lives and Hammond's job. It's clear that they're both hiding things, keeping them safely locked away inside so nothing can make it hurt again. Johnny's missed being able to talk to someone like this. He has to remind himself that this won't last; Hammond will leave and won't even think about him anymore, probably, because he has a life that doesn't include some kid he met on the job. Johnny knows that, and it doesn't hurt as much as anything else does.

        "Johnny, are ya listenin'?"

        "Huh? Oh, sorry." He gives Hammond a guilty smile, easing himself into a sitting position with a grimace.

        "Do ya need a nurse?" The concerned look makes Johnny's heart ache. He wishes he still had someone who cared about him.

        "I'm okay, really." He isn't. He's hurting physically and emotionally, and he's starting to feel a little trapped in this small room. He's too used to being outside now, most likely making him feel claustrophobic now. That's fine, he can handle this. It's not like he's going to be trapped in this small room forever. As soon as he's healed up enough to be discharged, he's gone.

        "Johnny boy, hey," Hammond slowly waves a hand in front of his face. Johnny jumps and looks at Hammond, feeling a bit like an idiot for continuously zoning out like this. Maybe it's a side effect of living alone for six months. Maybe it's the side effect of getting shot. He doesn't know.

        "Listen, Johnny, I should go," Hammond speaks a little slower, as if hoping Johnny will follow along better, "but if you'd like- well, would ya mind if I come back later to see ya? I know you probably have your parents who are worried sick about you, but whenever you just need someone here."

        Vaguely, Johnny wonders if Hammond's afraid someone's going to come and kill him. Maybe they will. He did live through a gunfight he wasn't even supposed to be near. He just nods at the officer, not really sure he can avoid some sort of a morbid joke if he did speak.

        "Okay, well, I'll give you the station's number. Call anytime you need, okay?" Hammond writes the number on a piece of paper from his notepad, ripping it out and giving it to Johnny. Johnny takes the paper and gives Hammond a small but grateful smile. He watches Hammond leave, then looks down at the paper in his hand.

        Maybe he won't be so alone anymore.


End file.
